Baser Instinct
by CrazyFeralVigilanteDragonLady
Summary: <html><head></head>Five months. Five months in darkness; in fear; in pain. Five months since Hiccup last saw the soft snow of Berk, and his family. When he finally escapes; bruised, battered and psychologically scarred, he knows, somewhere deep inside, that he can run but he will never, EVER be able to hide...</html>
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hiya, my readers. This fic is loosely based off Come Back to Me by Ayame4679. (The original is fantastic. Read it~). It was born from the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, where my sadistic and dark tendencies lie-**

****HAWKSNATCHER**: Also known as my nest.**

**SKYE: Actually, yes. This story contains torture; it's fairly violent because ****_I _****am fairly violent. Read on, if you dare...**

**MOONCHASER: Drama queen. We don't own HTTYD**

**o~0~O~0~o**

Chapter One

Today was it. Today I would escape.

It was doubtful my plan would work smoothly, but I had to try. As soon as Eriko left, I snatched up the food bowl and, as quietly as I could, I broke the pottery against the ground. The second it shattered I knew it had been too loud, so I threw myself on the ground with my arms outstretched, as if I had merely fallen over. Eriko's gnarled face peeped back into the dim cell, and I picked myself up. He swore.

"Fool. Learn to stand on your own two feet- oh, that's right, you only have one," he sneered, and stalked away again. The jibe doesn't affect me at all, although once it was the height of rudeness to me. I can still remember how violently I reacted when Snotlout lost his temper at me on Outcast Island. How amusing that seems now.

I ignore the half-raw fish bits scattered across the floor and pick up a shard of the unglazed pottery. Sitting down, I begin to pick at my prosthetic, until I manage to remove the spring. When I stand up again, I bite down on my tongue to stop my cry of shock. I had grown used to the spring-loaded prosthetic; now that it was just a hunk of metal with no extra kinetic enhancement, it was much harder to walk. What's left of my leg has been throbbing alarmingly and is an unnatural colour; it would be just my luck if, thanks to Raoul, even more of my leg is damaged. Best case scenario; it's just phantom pains. Worst, and unfortunately the probable scenario, it's gotten infected again after the sword thing two days ago (at lease I think it was two days ago, time isn't easy here), which means I'll need to lose even more of it. I shake away the thoughts; I don't need to worry about that right now. I stagger to the cell door and manoeuvre the spring into the lock. A minute of pure suspense, hearing my own pulse pounding in my ears; along with, bizarrely, the Berk anthem. Finally, the lock clicks and I heave the heavy iron door open. It doesn't screech; mostly due to the grease from the half-cooked fish Eriko kept serving me for my meals that I had slathered the hinges with. I creep out into the hallway and step as softly as I could. My prosthetic keeps clanking painfully against the ground, so I rip off a strip of my worse-for-wear tunic and wrap it around the base to muffle the sound.

I have to find Toothless. I know from his nightly wails that he's kept nearby, most likely in the same building as I am. Was. It feels amazing to think that, even though it's likely short-lived. I slip down the long corridor, every now and then hissing "Toothless!" under my breath. Then I hear it; a low, gurgling, questioning whimper that could only come from the throat of a dragon. I follow the sound until I find him. My breath catches in my throat.

His wide green eyes are half-lidded, dull and miserable, his wings no longer neatly folded by his sides but dragging limply on the ground. I choke back a sob. My poor, proud friend, treated like an animal and in such poor condition. Thank the gods his fake tail-wing was still attached and intact, as was the stirrup. My flying harness lies discarded in a corner.

"Toothless!" I whisper. He looks up, probably expecting yet another Hysteric, but when his dull eyes lock on me they brighten and he chirps joyfully. I hurriedly shush him, and pick the lock on his cage with the bent spring. It too clicks open, but this door, I know, will squeak. I might be able to get in without too loud a noise; Toothless will never get out. I slip in through the tiniest gap I can; considerably small, since I'm thinner and more of a fishbone than ever. Grabbing my harness and slipping it on, I scratch Toothless, who licks at my face, then slide onto his broad, scaly back. The saddle is still tattered, but it's better than nothing. I click in my metal leg and I whisper to my Night Fury.

"When we blast this door open, fly like you've never flown before;" I tell him. He coos quietly. I suck in my breath and tap my heels against Toothless' sides. A bolt of plasma shoots from his mouth, heralded by the signature whistling, and the door flies off of its hinges. Suddenly there are Hysterics everywhere, and Toothless roars and throws himself through the fray, smacking aside Vikings until we find a door and emerge into open air. I draw it in greedily; I'd forgotten just how _green _the archipelago smelt. The sunlight is painful on my eyes; I really can't remember when I was last in the sunshine. I close my eyes to slits as Toothless barges through the broken-down village, and we soon find a cliff. It's a takeoff we've done hundreds of times before, but when Toothless hurls himself off the cliff we drop a good distance before his weak wings catch us. Suddenly there are arrows shooting towards us, and I yelp as one buries itself in my arm.

_"Grab yer bows, boys," Raoul snarls, smiling menacingly. The other Hysterics pick up their bows and slot their arrows in. I wriggle slightly against the rope._

I must not break, _I think. _Be strong, Hiccup. Thor knows you'll doom the archipelago if you teach them. Strong and brave. _"Now remember," he says. "No lethal shots; that would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"_

_I close my eyes as I hear the first barbed arrow sing through the air, and no amount of strength or bravery could stop my cry of pain._

I shake myself from the recollection.

_Focus, Hiccup! _I yell mentally. They say that referring to yourself in the third person is a sign of a poor mind; considering the five months (give or take) that I had spent either being tortured or listening, helpless, as they hurt Toothless, it was nothing short of a miracle I was sane at all. An arrow hits my peg leg and bounces off with an echoing clang. Toothless barrel rolls, his once pristine form now sloppy and barely skyworthy, and I hold on as tight as I can to his rough, chipped scales as the world spins around me. I cry out again as another arrow pierces my leg, and another hits my lower back. I groan, a low and guttural sound, at the last one, and pray that it didn't hit anything important. Soon, thank the gods, we're out of range of the arrows, and the only sound is the panting of Toothless and I. There will be boats on our tail, but there's no way they'll keep up with a Night Fury, even a half-dead one. For a time too long to measure, we fly lopsidedly, and I do my best to remove the arrows that the Hysterics shot at me. I twist painfully to reach the last one, in my back, and the noise I make is nothing short of feral. My fingers are swamped in a deluge of warm blood, and I tie my tattered belt around the wound; hopefully it will stop me from dying of blood loss. I throw the arrows into the raging ocean below and breathe in deeply. Oh, the fresh air is killing me. Freedom; it's a taste sweeter than any honey that any island could provide. I hug Toothless' neck and whisper incoherent, reassuring words in his ear slits. He gurgles quietly.

When Berk finally comes into sight, I sob. Home, after five long, horrible months. As we draw closer, I hear a panicked scream of "Night Fury! Get down!"

Toothless drops alarmingly with exhaustion, and as a crowd of Vikings with weapons gathers I sincerely hope we miss them. It would be a cruel joke if we manage to escape only to be impaled on someone's sword by accident. There's a cry of shock as someone sees me, and surely they must recognise me. I'm the only Viking EVER to ride a Night Fury.

Toothless crashes into the dirt and somehow my prosthetic slips clear of the stirrup and I roll limply across the ground. Someone's yelling for my father, but when I try to speak all that happens is a cough laced with blood, a gasp of pain, and then everything dulls.

_"You fool," Raoul laughs. "You know why they haven't found you yet? They don't care. You're still the screw-up, the accident. They'll probably thank me for taking you off their hands."_

_"I don't believe you," I spit, trying to keep myself from either crying or yelling. I don't know which._

_"You have dragons. How could they have missed you for so long, if they really were looking for you?"_

_"They are! The- the island's hard to spot!"_

_I hate the way my voice quavers, how it betrays how I feel._

_What if they really aren't looking?_

When reality swims back into focus, I see a blur of ginger and hear a clank as someone skids to their knees beside me. Huge arms lift me, and for a second I panic and thrash weakly before I realise it's only Dad.

"Thor almighty," he half-whispers, half-sobs. "It's really him,"

He lifts me off the ground and I hear the sound of another dragon landing. A pair of boots hits the ground, and then my vision is obscured by a large quantity of blonde hair. Chances are it's not Ruffnut, so it must be Astrid.

"Hiccup!" she says in a strange combination of a whimper and a crow of jubilation. I try to respond but all that happens is another hacking cough. That must have been a rougher landing than I thought; I could talk plenty fine before. She steps back in alarm.

"He needs Gothi," she tells Dad.

"Go find Gobber-" he begins, when I'm attacked by another visitor. A dragon this time; it lands on my chest and gurgles in a song of joy. I squint at it, and vaguely recognise him. It's Sharpshot. He left my house for Gothi's as soon as he discovered that she liked to give out free fish, and had since fallen in with the healer's little flock of Terrors. The Terror missed me. I feel relieved; if no-one else did, then at least this little reptile valued me. Besides, if everyone really did want me gone, I've survived with only draconic comfort before; I could do it again if I had to. I weakly lift a hand and scratch his horns, then flop again. The simple energy required for such a simple movement is astounding. I soon realise that I'm actually moving, and I look past my green, scaly friend to see the village whipping by. Behind me, I hear Toothless wail.

"Keep him back!" I hear Astrid cry. "He's injured too; he'll kill himself trying to go after Hiccup!"

All the way up the hill, I hear the miserable cries of my dragon, and I whimper quietly. Dad hugs me tighter, and I cough again. This is really alarming; I'm no healer, but even I know coughing blood is not exactly a sign of prime health. Soon Gothi's house is right in front of us, and Dad throws open the door in such a frenzy that a hinge snaps. Gothi jumps, woken from a nap, and shakes her Terrors off of her various limbs before trotting over. Sharpshot flutters off of my chest. When she sees me, her eyes widen, and she starts scribbling frantically. Dad stares for a minute before a familiar set of feet- or more accurately a foot and a wooden peg- stump through the door. Dad waves him over.

"Oh, Hiccup," Gobber sighs. I've never known him to be emotional or touchy-feely, but I'm fairly certain he's crying.

"Gobber, the writing," Dad points shakily. Gobber hunkers over.

"Lay him on the bed," he reads. "She needs to examine him properly."

I feel myself laid out face down like a dead kipper, and someone pulls my tunic to my waist. Then there's the inevitable; Gothi's squeak of horror, Gobber's sharp breath and the ominous sound in my father's throat, a combination of misery and a promise of revenge; pure, dark and torturous. I knew they wouldn't exactly be overjoyed at the sight of the scars.

"Beard of Thor," Gobber marvels. "The gods made his muscles out of straw, but this boy's resolve must be iron,"

I feel Gothi's soft, gnarled hands gently explore the arrow wound, and then she dumps a quantity of some sort of ointment on it. It stings, but it's nothing compared to what's happened the last five months. I can almost see Dad and Gobber exchange glances. Every other time I've gotten myself injured and Gothi's put this salve on, I've hissed like a snake someone's stepped on. Gothi starts scribbling again, and then I'm lifted into a sitting position while Gothi wraps a bandage around my midriff. I clear my throat and hack out a bit more blood, because it's only fun if there's blood involved.

"Don't, Hiccup," Dad says quietly.

"I'm sorry," I get out, and then Dad's hugging me. I'm surprised; he's never been one for public displays of affection.

"Don't say that," he whispers. "It's not your fault."

_I laugh, carefree and joyful, as Toothless glides through the air, long black wings extended to their limit. Flying is one of my favourite things to do; no matter how clumsy and awkward I may be on land, in the sky Toothless and I can fly like we're two halves of a whole. The tail-wing is only an extension of my leg; and sometimes, although I never tell anyone else, I feel more dragon than person. I crave flight; when I'm sad or frustrated or pensive, all I need to do is soar in the clouds with Toothless and everything goes away. We swoop low to the ocean, happily skimming the waves and enjoying the rush of air on our faces._

_I twist in the air as I hear a strange noise. I turn. There's a dark blur and a dragon's screech of horror and then there's water. Lots of it. I didn't even have time to take a breath; and Thor knows I can't hold my breath for very long at all even when I have drawn in as much as possible. My vision swims, even though I can't, but then there's a tug on whatever's holding us and we emerge, spluttering, into daylight once again. I gasp for air, then a pair of rough hands lands on my arms. I turn, expecting Alvin, which is stupid, since we made peace with him. But it's not Alvin. I've never seen this man before in my life._

_"Well then," he sneers. "Look at our catch. A fishbone and a winged shark. Good on us,"_

When I realise that I've lost track of time, I lift my head. My arm and my leg are bound as well, and Gothi is off to the side writing in the dirt.

"She says he needs rest. Lots of it. He's injured on the inside; not badly, but that's why he's coughing blood. And keep the villagers away as much as you can. Something like this will be traumatic, and they will want to know everything."

Dad nods mutely and tries to pick me up, but I hold out a pale hand and stand up shakily. I've barely taken a step before my peg leg gives out beneath me and I drop to the floor. Gobber narrows his eyes and before I can stand up again he's grabbed my leg and hooked off my peg. I give up and lay limply as Gobber indulges in a few colourful oaths.

"Odin's ghost," he swears in shock. "Stock…"

Dad leans down again and I can feel the tension.

"We're going to need the sleeping herbs. And a saw," I hear him say shakily. I groan. I was afraid of this. Stupid Raoul and his stupid sword. If I ever see that sword again I will melt it down and hit him in the face with the resulting lump of iron.

"Hiccup… please, you need to eat these." Dad says shakily. I really don't want to; because I know that when I wake up there'll be even less of a leg than before. But I open my mouth and chew the bitter leaves, and then everything fades to indistinct chatter and a whole lot of pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****_Farin okay, mi frieundlees? _****Nice to see you back for more twisted fanfiction from my hand. This chapter should really start digging into the psychologically-screwed-up mess that Hiccup has been left by that butt Raoul. I don't even know what the guy looks like; I haven't even designed him yet, but I hate him with every fibre of my being. Lol, this is what we call ****_unhealthy obsession. _****(points to a certain male who sits at my lunch table)**

**Anyway, enjoy, and try not to get roped in TOO much to my twistedness.**

**o~0~O~0~o**

Chapter two

When I wake up again I groan. The first time there was no pain at all; this time I felt everything. I look down. From just below my knee down is a taller version of my old peg. I sit up, wincing at the pain in my head. I look to the side; but this time there's no Toothless. How long have I been out this time? The pain in my lungs has gone, so it must have been a while. I reach out and pick up the crutch I've been left and slowly limp my way to the door. I open it and then there's a blur, a shriek and then there's three hundred pounds of black dragon on top of me. He licks like he'd expected me to be dead and for once I don't protest. Then the door creaks open further and Dad is there, pushing my dragon aside and helping me to my foot once again.

"Oh, Hiccup," he sighs, and hugs me gently. I grit my teeth at the contact and fight my instincts to drive my new peg into his kneecaps. He seems to sense it though, because he lets me go pretty soon. He searches my eyes for any emotion, but I wipe my face clean like I taught myself. Then Gobber comes in with the biggest plate of food I've seen in my life and plonks it on the table.

"Eat up, Hiccup," he says, and Dad drops me onto the log chair. I gingerly reach out to a chicken leg impaled on a stick and prod it, just to make sure it's real, before I grab it and take a huge bite.

It's amazing. Real food, not just the half-raw fish scraps I was served up on Hysteria. I completely forget I'm being watched and shove the food into my mouth like an animal. Once it's gone I feel fairly sick. I haven't eaten very much in five months; my stomach feels like it's the size of a walnut. I can't help but notice the way Dad's eyes rake my torso, gazing at the protruding ribs visible even through my tunic. I hug my vest a little tighter- someone must have put it on me while I was out-and sit there in front of the fire. Dad's eyes have a look of pure misery in them, and I'm terrified that it's my fault, that I've hurt him by getting myself kidnapped again. Every other time it was never more than a day I spent under lock and key; he probably thought I was dead. I suddenly realise there's a way I can check; I stagger to my feet and limp to the stairs. Dad's there by my side immediately, and I can see him resisting the urge to scoop me up and carry me into my bedroom.

Toothless' bed is still in its spot; in fact, nothing has been touched at all. A clear two inches of dust coat everything. The one thing missing is exactly what I was hoping wouldn't be.

The helmet I never wore. The one made from my mother's breastplate. It's gone from its usual spot, and it's nowhere in the room. I turn to look at Dad. He seems puzzled at my coming up here, like he doesn't know why the missing helmet is so significant to me. When a Viking's body can't be burned for one reason or another, it's tradition to put their helmet or another important possession on a small boat and burn the possession instead.

They burned the helmet. They thought I was dead. All of them. How much pain I've caused them, how many horrible nights alone in this house, and they had to accept they would never know what had happened to me. Whether I was waiting for them in Valhalla or I was drifting in Hel not even knowing who I was, who I had been. Whether Toothless had died with me or whether he was stranded forever on some landmass, unable to fly, waiting for the day a hunting party would put him out of his misery. Whether I had died an honourable death or whether it had been as ignoble as falling from Toothless' back and drowning. I can't stay in here any longer, and I go to shove my way out when Dad stops me.

"Hiccup," he says, "what's the matter?"

I look at him and suddenly I'm crying and stumbling backwards.

"The helmet!" I howl. "The helmet!"

His eyes widen as he understands, and he drops to his knees and places a hand on my shoulder. I twist savagely away from the grip, and for a moment his kindly, albeit huge form seems to be another.

_"Give it up, runt. Either you teach us or we hurt the dragon. And you."_

_"Leave him alone!" I cry. "It's me you want; don't hurt Toothless!"_

_"Oh, we'll hurt you too," he leers, lifting his sword. "It's one thing that no-one else seems to realise; although you're the best, you aren't the **only **dragon rider…" And then he grabs my shoulder and I'm yanked forwards, and I can't help but yowl like a dying cat when he brings the sword down._

I shake my head. It's not Raoul. Not Raoul. It's Dad. Dad. Dad. Just Dad, not Raoul. Not Raoul. The fractured thoughts chase each other through my head and I groan. Dad's eyes are depressed. He hates it; that he can't even touch me without having me flip out on him.

"Hiccup," he begins, and sits down on the dusty floor. I sneeze at the sudden upsurge of dusty air. "You need to get this out. It's going to destroy you from the inside out. When your mother was taken, I thought it was my fault. Gobber held me at knifepoint until I told him. It did me good; it helped me realise that it was no good brooding over it. I can understand if it's not me you want to tell, but…"

"No," I say. I slowly sink to the floorboards, nose running slightly. "It's okay."

I don't know why I said that. TELL him? He'll beat himself up even further! But now the floodgates are open, and it all spills out.

"I was out on my afternoon flight with Toothless" I sniffle. "We were just flying like normal, but then we heard this noise and we got shot down by… I dunno, I think it was a bola. We landed in the water, but we got fished out and thrown in a boat, by some guy named Raoul. The boat stopped at some island called Hysteria, and I was locked in a cell, and Toothless was too. It was the usual reason; the dragon taming thing; I don't get why no-one else has worked it out yet. We tried to escape so many times that I ended up having my peg leg confiscated for a time, until someone pointed out it was no fun if I couldn't run when- I mean if I couldn't stand up?" It turns into more of a question, and I'm hoping Dad accepts it. Although he must know, I don't want to outright mention the torture. He'll declare a blood feud; and I really don't know if we could take the Hysterics, even with dragons. "They locked Toothless up too, but luckily they left the tail-wing strapped on. They kept trying to get me to surrender Toothless to them, and… they were pretty drastic. But I knew I couldn't do that to Toothless, and sometimes they took it out on him, and I couldn't make them stop!" I'm choking up now, and Dad leans forwards and hugs me loosely. I manage to continue. "And then I managed to escape with Toothless, and I crashed here. I'm so sorry. I should have come up with the idea sooner!"

"It's alright." Dad reassures me. "You've told me your story, now I'll tell you one of mine." he says. I look at him, bewildered.

"You remember how Alvin told you how he got kicked off Berk?"

"He said he disobeyed you and caused a few injuries…"

"'Injuries' is not the right word. It was Alvin's fault that Gobber lost his arm."

"What?"

"He didn't follow through with our plan to capture this Nightmare. He attacked it, and when he grabbed its wing it went berserk. It lashed around, spewing fire everywhere, and then it grabbed Gobber's hand and just bit down. If Alvin had listened to me, Gobber would be fine. But if I'd stopped to make sure Alvin was prepared to listen; if I'd made sure he actually knew the plan, he wouldn't have disobeyed in the first place. So, if you see it that way, it was my fault. But if you look at it another way, it was simply the Nightmare's nature to fight back. It couldn't stop itself from attacking any more than a cat can stop itself chasing a bird. Don't blame yourself, Hiccup. Go out, maybe do something you like doing. Maybe not flying; it's too soon for that. Why don't you help Gobber out in the forge tomorrow? You used to love that."

It sounds terrifying, but I reluctantly agree. He's right; it might help.

o~0~O~0~o

This is why I like Gobber.

Whether I've just messed up another dragon raid and everyone's treating me like I've brought Ragnarok down upon us, or whether I'm suddenly a dragon slaying celebrity, or whether I've just escaped from five months of violent torture, he treats me exactly the same. At first he just lets me sharpen axes and swords, but when he realises I haven't lost my touch, he's got me forging like any other day, whether it be new weapons or dragon tools. There seems to be a suspiciously large number of people who've 'broken their hammer' or 'need a new saddle', and Gobber scowls at them all until they slink away guiltily. It's the best way I could possibly get out into the open again, simply because it's so blissfully normal. He lets me forge Toothless a new tail-wing; the old one was rusted and likely to collapse the next time we used it. It was a miracle we made it back to Berk in the first place. Gobber tries to make a joke and holds up a leather collar and leash and pretends to tie me to a post, and says sternly 'No pee-ing inside', but he's not to know that I'm hiding a shudder of fear; that if anything leather comes near my neck again I'll scream. When the day is done, Gobber distracts the hordes while I sneak out the back to return home. Then I hear a voice behind me and jump about a foot in the air in fright.

"Hiccup! Wait!"

It's Astrid, and this time there's not even a punch. She just kisses me. When she pulls away, I stutter out,

"How did you know I would go this way?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Well, between Gobber dancing the _aldurnari _in front of the forge and your father threatening painful death to anyone who bothers you, I figured you'd stay out of sight, and this was the likely path."

I wince.

"The _aldurnari_?" I question. "Gobber is dancing the Fire Dance in front of the whole village? Ouch."

"I pity their poor eyes," Astrid says.

It's so _normal. _My new favourite word, 'normal'.

"Well, I'd better get home before Dad sends out a search party…" I say pathetically. I turn to leave and realise she's following me.

"Why are you doing that?" I ask.

"Because I've told your dad that I'm staying in your house tonight and if he said otherwise I was sleeping on your roof." she answers matter-of-factly.

"Oh," I say, and keep walking. She follows me, all the way to the house, where Toothless is waiting. He pokes me with a fat paw, as if checking that I'm still in one piece, or… that I'm actually there. For the first time, I wonder if I wasn't really the only one having hallucinations in those dim cells.

_I lay on the ground. Raoul is gone, and his tools of torture with him. I'm bleeding slowly from the puncture wound on my arm, and the poison, although not strong enough to be lethal, is making me woozy and I have a terrible headache. I focus on the walls. There are years' worth of carvings etched on them; some names, some messages, some insane scribbling. There's a crack near one corner, and as I watch a tiny green shoot emerges from it. It sprawls into a huge vine, clasping the walls, beautiful blossoms popping open. It breaks through the roof, and there is Toothless, happy and healthy, waiting for me. I lurch to my feet and stagger to the vine, but when I reach out to take hold my hand passes right through it and I crack my fingertips into the cold stone. I drop back to the ground as the vine falls to dust, the brief flicker of hope extinguished. Again._

Satisfied, Toothless nudges the door open with his nose and Astrid follows me inside. I limp my way up the stairs, into my newly dusted bedroom. I lean back for a moment, thinking. Where's Astrid going to sleep tonight?

"Hurry up, slowpoke," Astrid says behind me. She pokes me in the back, unwittingly directly on top of the half-healed arrow wound, and I yelp, more in surprise than pain. She flinches.

"Gods, Hiccup, I'm so sorry."

I hate it.

"Don't be, you weren't to know," I tell her, letting her past me into the room. She drops her axe with a thud.

"Is it alright if I sleep here tonight?"

She points to a patch of floor. I suddenly realise something.

"No, you can take the bed. I sleep with Toothless now anyway," I respond.

"Hiccup, I couldn't do-" she protests, but I cut her off.

"Astrid, I spent last night on Toothless' bed. I'll be fine doing it again. He had no problem with it. Please, take the bed. Really."

She looks doubtful but nods.

"Hiccup," she says quietly. "I just wanted you to know… I missed you a lot. I'm really glad you're home."

"Believe me," I answer. "So am I. Home beats crazy Vikings with hot swords any day."

Oops. Astrid's eyes get that horrified look in them, and I realise that saying that was stupid. Oh dear. What a way to go, Hiccup; you really have a talent for sticking your foot in it.

She reaches forwards, grabs my wrist and shoves my sleeves up my arm. I try to pull free but her grip is unbreakable.

"Great Odin's ghost," she whispers, appalled. Her grip slackens in shock and I tear my arm away and pull my sleeve back down, but it's too late. She's already seen the scars. At least she didn't see the ones on my back or chest.

"Really, they're fine. Besides, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," I quote back at her. She's looking at me with wide eyes.

"Hiccup… you're a better Viking than any of us. To have held out for five months without telling them whatever it was they wanted to know… that's amazing."

I don't like it. I resolve myself; long sleeves every day for the rest of my life Astrid, awestruck by _me_? Not okay. And I'll get a similar reaction from everyone who sees them. Scars are the symbol of a Viking's bravery; if I wanted to, I could use these to stop the mutterings of 'Stoick's little disappointment' for all time; but that's just not an option. I don't **_want _**to be seen as some amazing warrior hero.

"Why don't you guys get it?" I protest angrily. "I don't _care _about what happened; I just want everything to go back to normal!"

Astrid's face is uncharacteristically gentle; she gently gives me a hug and I can't help the low whimper that escapes my lips. She stiffens and slowly draws away, looking mortified.

"Oh gods," she says in a horrified voice. "I'm so sorry…"

And that's what does it.

"If I hear one more person say 'I'm sorry' then they're _going to be!_" I snap angrily, and I limp as fast as I can- which still isn't very fast- down the stairs. Toothless had been tactfully waiting downstairs; maybe expecting some soppy 'I missed you' thing, but he coos quietly and lifts a wing, which I flop under miserably. Now I feel bad; there was no reason to get mad at Astrid. But I did; I really hope she's not too wounded. But she probably will be; it takes a _lot _to make me mad. She must be feeling like she's done something unforgiveable.

It's a real shame that I'm the one who did the unforgiveable. Well done, Hiccup.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

When Astrid tentatively comes down the stairs a while later, Toothless lowers his wing to hide me, and through a tiny gap I can see him tilting his head both questioningly and accusingly. Astrid winces at the blame-filled look. I personally don't get the look often, but I've seen it before, and it's effective at making the recipient feel bad.

A Night Fury's hate-filled snarls, however, freeze the blood and still the soul.

* * *

><p><em>"Leave him alone!" I snarl furiously, doing my utmost to mask the desperation and terror in my voice.<em>

_Toothless wails miserably again, his voice echoing down the halls and thrumming deep through my whole being; his pain feels a thousand times multiplied in my heart. I step forwards, opening my mouth to hiss more anger, but Raoul laughs and before I can say anything he shoves me backwards. I let out an involuntary cry of pain as I land on my broken wrist; Toothless' rumbling whimper of pain suddenly changes to the sound of pure loathing; I had never heard a sound like it. It wished a thousand deaths, all more painful than the last, and even Raoul shivers slightly. It's terrifying, blood-chilling, enough to make me cringe and cover my ears. The sheer hatred in it could make Thor himself drop his hammer and back away slowly._

_It's not for nothing we called him the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself._

_There's a sudden clang of metal on scales, and Toothless' roar of fury suddenly changes into another howl of pain; and I can't help it._

_"TOOTHLESS!" I wail in misery and despair._

* * *

><p>"Hiccup?" she says tentatively. Then there's a yelp and suddenly she's deposited under Toothless' wing with me, swept in by his long muscular tail. I shudder as I glimpse the half-healed wounds; the ghastly gaps between his scales where his greyish pink skin shows through. His scales are brighter though; and the damaged ones have started falling out all over the place, much to my shock whenever I jar my leg by stepping on them. And then I get a wonderful view of his wing as he lowers it completely to the ground, completely obscuring the outside world. Astrid picks herself up and freezes as I glance at her. Toothless' wing lifts a tiny bit, he peers in and makes the draconic equivalent of a dissatisfied frown, then squashes his wing tighter, forcing Astrid and I together. She leans backwards as much as she can, and I suddenly realise I'm trembling. Gods, she must think I'm a sandcastle; if she walks beside it too heavily I'll collapse into a pile of dust. I breathe in deeply, trying to force calm on the frightened anticipation my mind is filled with; like it expects Astrid to pull out her axe or something.<p>

"Hiccup," she says again.

"Yes," I say, a hard edge to my voice, "that's my name. Glad we have that sorted out."

She blinks, and I feel even worse. She's only trying to help, but Thor knows that it'll take an awful lot of help before I'm anywhere close to normal.

She's struggling to find something to say, and before she can I blurt out "I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't be," she says. "It's well within your rights to-"

"No," I interrupt. "I shouldn't take it out on you, or anyone. Gods, why did I get myself caught in the first place? It's my fault,"

"Gods above, no, Hiccup," she responds, eyes wide. "There's no-one at fault here; by the sounds of it they were shooting for you; they got you and there was nothing you could have done. Don't beat yourself up about it!"

I slump. My logic is telling me she's right; my self-awareness is saying it was a stupid mistake that got me caught.

Ugh. I'm so bipolar about this. I decide to change the subject before I explode my own head.

"How's the academy going?" I ask. Astrid looks at me.

"Alright, I guess," she says slowly. "Fishlegs usually leads the academy, but I take over for the practical lessons. He does as best as he can, but it's not quite as good as it used to be. Fishlegs gets all his information from books; you get yours from practical research."

I snigger, although I can almost see the smile not reaching my eyes..

"You mean almost getting incinerated?"

She grins, a hint of relief in her eyes.

"I wasn't going to say anything." she looks at me. "You know, you should come to the academy tomorrow. See it for yourself."

I nod quietly. I'm not looking forward to the interaction, but the dragons will make up for the people. Astrid smiles softly and touches my arm gently.

"I'm really glad you're home, Hiccup," she says. "I missed you."

I missed her, too.

o~0~O~0~o

The first thing I notice is the sign over the gate.

The old one, with the Night Fury icon, had been taken down at some point, and replaced with another one. I look closer. It's Toothless, standing tall with his wings spread wide, but I'm sitting proudly on his back, my shield on my arm and looking way more awesome than I could manage in real life.

"Who painted it?" I ask. Astrid blushes.

"I did," she says.

Huh. I didn't know she could paint. Maybe she had tuition or something; it doesn't seem a very Astrid-esque talent. I walk through the gate, Toothless padding at my heels, and inside everyone freezes.

Snotlout is gaping, hand still clamped in Hookfang's mouth. The twins have stopped where they sat, Tuffnut hanging upside-down from Belch's saddle. Fishlegs is still pointing with a stick to a list of dragon taming aids.

Meatlug suddenly pounds over, and licks happily.

"Hey, Meatlug," I say quietly. I suddenly remember when I first started taming her; my hand outstretched with the garlic grass clutched in my fingers. Then Barf and Belch dump off their riders and stomp over, and Hookfang spits out Snotlout's hand and joins them. Then Stormfly comes out of an open cage to see what the fuss is and instantly joins them. I smile weakly, and it's definitely not genuine, as they all tussle for the chance to give me an affectionate lick.

"Calm down, guys," I say. They finally step away and are instantly replaced by people. I stiffen as Fishlegs wraps me in his arms.

"Hiccup!" cheers Fishlegs.

"Look! Even more of your leg fell off!" says Ruffnut delightedly. Tuffnut grins stupidly at the statement. Snotlout locks eyes with me and his eyebrows furrow slightly, like he's thinking deep thoughts. I squirm free from Fishlegs' grip.

"Hey, guys," I say weakly.

"Man, this is awesome! You're back! Oh, I have something to show you!"

Fishlegs bustles into the back room, where we hold classes in winter, dragging me with him. The others follow, and I see a round, silver object hung in the position of honour on the back wall.

"My shield? But I lost that when-"

I break off. The shield had spun into the water when I had been shot down; I'd never expected to see it again.

"Scauldy," says Ruffnut proudly. "When we were hunting for you, I thought he might be able to help, so I threw my fish oil in the ocean in different places."

"Too many long words," Tuffnut groans. "You're bursting my brain."

"Shut up," she told her twin. "He must have smelled the oil and recognised it, because he came. I gave him one of your old saddles to sniff."

"You found the shield by letting your dragon sniff Hiccup Butt Smell?" Tuffnut said incredulously. I sighed, both exasperated and amused. I had barely noticed it, but I had really missed the twins' antics.

"No, stupid," Ruffnut punched her brother. "He smelled it and went diving. A while later he came back with the shield. So I brought it back."

"Thanks," I say softly.

"Yeah! He thanked me!"

Ruffnut and Tuffnut banged their helmets together.

I'm gratified that she rescued the shield. I pluck it down and examine the mechanisms. It's still fully functional, surprisingly, and I bring it to my nose. Yep, that's Gobber's disgusting animal-fat grease. I've been trying to convince him to use the beeswax stuff I made for years, but he never does.

"You know what we should have?" Fishlegs says suddenly.

"What?" Astrid answers.

"A dragon race!" he announces.

Oh no.

"Um…" Astrid says, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"No, let's race!" Tuffnut says. Ruffnut nods energetically.

"It's been too long," Snotlout says quietly.

"Alright," I sigh reluctantly. Dad will probably be furious, but I suddenly realise that maybe flying will help me forget all the problems I've caused. I climb onto Toothless' back and scratch his scales; he coos happily when he realises that we'll be flying once more. I fumble with the prosthetic; I have a lot less control than I used to, and it's _freaking heavy. _The imbalance in my body is almost laughable; maybe I should start weighing down my other boot. Gobber suggested it once, when I first got my prosthetic, but I quickly got used to it. Finally the stupid thing clicks in, and I look up to realise that the entire academy is waiting for me.

"Erm," I say awkwardly. Astrid picks up the conversation.

"Where do you guys want to race?" she asks.

"The Needles?" Fishlegs suggests. I blanch.

_Oh gods, please, not over water. Please gods not over water. Not over water._

Astrid must see my panic, because she shoots down the idea before it can garner any support.

"No, I don't feel like getting sea spray in my eyes today," she says. "How about a race around the village and up the Spire? We'll make the winner the first person back here."

"Yeah, let's go with that," I say gratefully. It's not a long route, and I want to be out of here as soon as possible. The dragons stump through the gate one by one and line up at the established line outside the academy.

"On three!" Astrid yells. "One… two… THREE!"

Toothless knows the drill; he sweeps his broad wings down and hurtles upwards. The wind rushing through my hair and blowing back my vest feels amazing, but the old sense of tranquillity is gone. I rub my hand over Toothless' scales. He's doing most of the work here, and I'm operating the tailfin completely with my subconscious. I feel a sudden and completely unexpected stab of misery. Stupid Hysterics; they've taken away my one refuge. I'll probably never be able to fly over the ocean again without associating it with impending doom, grief, terror and pain. I'm so distracted that, one by one, the other dragons glide past us. Even Meatlug. I almost forget to reach out and touch the wooden roof of Gothi's house, like I'm supposed to when flying this route. Toothless is flying really strangely; I suddenly wonder if maybe he's not over it either.

* * *

><p><em>"Toothless? Bud, are you okay?"<em>

_He answers with a low crooning sound from my right. I turn and reach out, almost breaking my fingertips on a metal bar. _

_"Well, this is a little degrading," I say aloud, all spunk and sass. _

_"Would you rather make the trip in a box?" asks that voice. I spin, unable to see where it's coming from._

_"Depends on the box," I say. "I mean, there are nice boxes and less-than-nice boxes."_

One of these days this dumb sass is going to get me in trouble, _I think to myself. Then I hear the door of the cage creak open and quickly realise that today is that day. There's the sound of something moving really fast, then something thunks far too hard into the side of my head. Ow. I drop to my knees. If I had actually been able to see anything then there might be black spots in my vision, but the most terrifying thing is that when I fall unconscious there's no change at all._

* * *

><p>"Hiccup?"<p>

I look up. I'm in the Academy, and my leg _really _hurts. I demonstrate my amazing intellectual abilities with the incredibly intelligent response of;

"Wha-?"

"You came off Toothless," Astrid says gently. "Your… your metal leg was still stuck in the prosthetic."

"Cool trick," Ruffnut giggles, and Astrid shoots her a glare.

Oh. My mind runs through the possibilities; the most likely one is that I was left dangling really painfully at a bad angle from the prosthetic. That's even worse than that time I got stuck to Meatlug.

"Anyway…" Astrid yawns. "I'm tired, and since we basically skipped lessons today anyway I'm going home."

I can tell, though; she's not tired at all. Hel, she's gotten perceptive. She can see that all I really want to be doing is hiding in my house. Fishlegs nods.

"Yeah, I think so too." he says.

"Awesome!" Tuffnut exclaims. "We're _not _stuck here!"

"Let's go tip yaks," Ruffnut finishes. They climb onto their dragon and are gone before I can blink. Fishlegs is next; Meatlug gurgles happily before buzzing through the gate. Astrid walks out, and I go to follow when suddenly I feel a pair of hands on my stomach and I howl in terror, twisting myself away frantically.

* * *

><p><em>It's not that easy to get out of here, runt," the man says. I protest violently and try to kick him with my prosthetic, but he just drags me back.<em>

_"Now for your punishment," he says._

* * *

><p>But the hands don't grab tight, and I land on the ground. I scramble backwards, and I squint at the figure. Then my reason catches up with my instincts and brains them with a hammer. It's not Raoul at all; it's Snotlout. His eyes are wide in horror, and I suddenly realise how <em>animalistic <em>my reaction was. Five months. I'm ashamed. They may not have broken me, but they _have _stripped me down to my baser, feral reactions. Astrid peeks back in, and when she registers Snotlout still standing and me shaking in fear on the ground she lifts her axe.

"Whatever you did, you foul little-" she snarls. Snotlout backs away.

"Astrid," I grab her arm. "It's not his fault. I overreacted, that's all,"

"To WHAT? What were you over-reacting TO?" she hisses.

Snotlout cowers.

"I was trying to tickle him," he murmurs in misery.

"You what?" Astrid says incredulously. Snotlout looks up.

"He's not smiling. Hiccup always smiles. So I thought I should get him to smile again. But I didn't realise-" he breaks off and looks at me with huge eyes begging forgiveness. I stand up awkwardly.

"It's okay," I say softly. Ugh, this is all so messed up. I shake my head to clear it. "Don't worry about it,"

Snotlout is still staring at me. Then he says;

"Hiccup… what's the difference between stupidity and laziness?"

_"What?" _I say in confusion. He looks up.

"'I don't know' and 'I don't care',"

I stare at him. _Snotlout _just made an intelligent joke. Then I crack a slight smile.

"Har de har har," I say. "Very funny. Forget becoming a Viking; you should just stand up in front of people and tell them jokes."

He shakes his head.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Who would do that? No-one would pay you, and you'd have nothing to eat."

"It's not that bad," I say thoughtlessly. Then I realise.

_Oops. I have **got **to stop doing that, _I chastise myself.

"Oh my…" Snotlout inhales. I scramble to cover it up.

"At least you'd have the satisfaction of knowing you're funny. Tell me another one."

Astrid's stiff expression softens. I managed to cover that slip up.

"Erm… what did the pink flower say to the blue flower?"

"I have no idea," I say sincerely.

"Breathe, darn it, breathe!" Snotlout finishes. I snort slightly.

"That was terrible," I tell him.

"Like you could do better," he challenges, clearly gratified at my response.

"Easy," I say. "Why did the father sheep get mad at the baby sheep?"

"He messed up a dragon raid?" Snotlout suggests. I raise an eyebrow.

"Nice try. No, he didn't say 'Thank ewe' to his mother."

Snotlout loses it. He honestly starts rolling around on the floor laughing.

"Okay," Astrid says, sitting down. "I've got one for you; what did one wall say to the other wall?"

"'This joke is really old and overused'?" I suggest. Astrid tilts her head.

"That too. No, it said 'Meet you at the corner!'"

"Everyone's heard that joke before, that was pitiful," Snotlout says. Astrid crosses her arms.

"That's it. I declare a joke war!"

"Well, you're a joke, so you win," Snotlout says cheekily. Astrid narrows her eyes.

"You will _lose, _Snotface," she says threateningly.

"It's not a competition," I protest. They both look at me.

"Sorry," Astrid says, "but it _so _is,"

"I'd missed you saying that," Snotlout smirks.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: The Crazy Feral Vigilante Dragon Lady is back! ****_Kvetha, fricaya, _****and welcome to chapter four of Baser Instinct. Enjoy!**

**MOONCHASER: We really, really are tired of saying it, but we don't own HTTYD.**

**o~0~O~0~o**

I wake up the next morning leaning against Toothless' warm, scaly foreleg. He's looking down at me, faintly amused, as if to say _Damn, kid, you're going to be in so much trouble. _

And he's right. Oh my gods, Dad's probably organised a hunting party by now. I scramble upright and Astrid sleepily opens her eyes at the sound of my prosthetic clunking against the ground.

"Huh? Where're you going?" she says drowsily.

"My father's going to kill me," I answer, slightly panicked. Astrid laughs and pushes herself into a seated position.

"Let him," she says, moving herself across the ground to lean on Toothless beside me. "He can't disagree with you spending a little time with the academy,"

She has a point. If Dad has any brains at _all _in his head, he would look for me here, because if you can't find me I'm generally with the dragons. Or a psychotic kidnapping torturer, but I'm pretty sure Astrid and Snotlout don't come under that category. So I let myself lean back against Toothless, who hums contentedly, and go back to sleep, comforted in knowing Astrid will be right beside me.

o~0~O~0~o

"Oh man," says a voice. "You two are in _so much trouble_."

I open my eyes again with a yelp. There's a huge shape looming over me, and for a second I panic, then I realise it's just Fishlegs.

"Why?" Astrid says cheekily. I realise that I'm basically snuggled up beside her like a cat and I quickly push myself upright. Thank the gods Snotlout sleeps heavily; if he had seen that we would _never _be able to live it down.

"Stoick… whole village…panicking… can't find Hiccup…" Fishlegs gabbles.

"Oh my gods," I say guiltily. Dad probably got the fright of his life, waking up and seeing me gone. A few feet away, Snotlout opens his eyes.

"Wha-?"

"Why weren't we invited?" says another voice behind us. I groan. Now the twins have shown up.

"Because we didn't feel like it," Astrid says blithely. She stands up. "We'd better go show your dad that you're still in one piece."

"Well, as one of a piece as he gets," Ruffnut points to my leg. I glare at her.

I am so, so dead.

We hop on Toothless and Stormfly and fly slowly over the village, landing in front of my frantic father. The twins, Snotlout and Fishlegs land behind us.

"Hiccup!" he sighs in relief, wrapping me in his huge arms as soon as I jump off Toothless. I wasn't expecting it; I yelp and, completely on instinct, kick him on the shin. He lets go in mild surprise and looks at me.

"Oh my gods," I suck in my breath. "I am so, so sorry, Dad, I really-"

He silences me with a look.

"Gobber, go call off the search," he commands, and my mentor shakes his head mockingly before stumping off. He looks at me again.

"Where in Thor's name were you?" he asks. I blush.

"I fell asleep in the academy with Astrid," I say shyly. "It was nothing bad, we were just talking…"

"Kissed a few times," says Astrid cheekily. She's picked up quite the sense of humour. Now is most certainly **not **the time for that.

"Not helping," I tell her crossly. She smirks. Then dad looks at Toothless.

"What, you flew here? I thought I said no flying just yet?" he asks.

"I suppose that now would be a bad time to tell you we had a dragon race yesterday?" I say tentatively. Dad slaps his huge hand against his face.

"You really don't make it easy, Hiccup,"

"Hey, no-one died," Astrid says defensively.

"Hiccup _almost _died though!"

"_Thank you, _Tuffnut," I groan and sink a little lower into my boot as Dad glowers.

"You _what?_"

"It- it was nothing!" I protest weakly. "I just slipped. I didn't even fall, Toothless got me."

"By his leg!" Ruffnut says excitedly. "He was, like, just dangling by his leg! It was _awesome._"

"Just… just be quiet, please," I beg them, letting my head drop. Fishlegs is shaking his head at them.

"_Hiccup!_" Dad yelps, scandalised. "Please, _please, _tell me that they're messing with me! You can't do that!"

And I snap.

"Listen, Dad," I bark angrily. His bushy eyebrows shoot up his forehead and brush his helmet. "I spent _five months _locked in a cell without Toothless and I go on _one flight _and have _one accident _and suddenly I'm some fragile little azalea? I'm not going to die because I fell off Toothless! Just- just stop acting like I'm some traumatised child!"

I swing myself back into Toothless' saddle and he gets the idea. He takes off with a furious sweep of his 48-foot wings, and we rocket skywards. Still fuming, I lightly trace the gaps in his small, sleek scales where his pinkish-grey skin shows through, puffy and ridged in unpleasant scars. I don't even know where we're flying; I'm letting Toothless do the navigating. He's making mournful sounds, twisting his neck to look at me. He suddenly angles sharply and I quickly click the tailfin into the right position. After a while I recognise the landscape; the thick forests of Raven Point. Toothless drops sleekly to the ground in the cove and I slide off of his back, clenching and unclenching my fingers. Toothless gives me a look that just screams _tell me everything. _

"Why does the village have to be so... so _ngh _about it?" I gesture wildly with my hands. "I know they're dumb, but they can't be _that _dumb! All I want is for things to go back to normal! I spent that time either screaming like a wild animal or half-dead! I don't want to be reminded of that now! They managed it after the battle with the Red Death, and it's not like this was the first time I've been kidnapped! Between Alvin and Dagur and this new crazy Raoul- ugh!"

I drop beside Toothless, rage spent, and now the angst begins.

"Oh, Toothless," I sigh miserably. "What I wouldn't give to go back to the time you and I spent here alone. We were happy here, just you and I. I didn't have to worry about the other dragon-riders; they hated me. Even now, I can't help thinking that they're fair-sailing-oarsmen, and that the second I screw up again they'll go back to their scornful indifference. Why- why did I have to be followed by Astrid that day? We- we could have flown to the end of the world together! None of this- this stupid over protectiveness, this concern. Just you and me!"

Toothless whines and stomps over to the pond and sticks in his head, withdrawing it with a small fish; an undersized cod, maybe. He swallows it and I tilt my head.

"Food? Really?" I ask, but then he stomps over and grabs my vest between his teeth. "Hey!" I protest. "What are you doing?"

He drops me in front of a rock and then his eyes roll back in his head, before he opens his mouth and half a cod slides down his slimy tongue and into my lap.

"Toothless, that's-"

I break off. He's looking at me pleadingly, and I realise.

He's trying to recreate the time we spent here. So, with great reluctance, I lift the cod to my mouth and take a bite. And, surprisingly, it tastes better than all the food Dad has heaped in front of me, because I know that Toothless wants it to mean something, and it _does. _So I swallow my mouthful and take another bite. Even Toothless is surprised; I think he got the gist that humans didn't like raw fish, so my acceptance of his gift is surprising. I take a third bite before I decide that if I do try to eat it all I might throw up. The fish is smooth and slimy. I could almost pretend it had been cooked, except it wears a thick coat of spit and it's not hot. It's not cold, either. It's at that precise temperature that reminds me that this thing came out of a dragon's stomach.

I let the fish fall and Toothless snaps up the remainder. Then I bend down and unbuckle my prosthetic. Toothless looks at me in surprise as I throw it to the side.

"I don't need it, bud," I tell him, leaning heavily on him as I stand with one leg. "It's only another rough patch job from the village,"

And he obligingly allows me to unbuckle his saddle and tailfin, and I spend the rest of the day falling over, swearing loudly and laughing my head off at the antics of my psychotic dragon. He pretends to fly and promptly turns a one-eighty and faceplants in the dirt, he acts like he's a fish and flops across the ground towards me.

I think that I'm the only person on this island who takes no shame in a flightless dragon. He's better than all of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Gods above, that was _exhausting!_" I laugh, scratching my dragon's ear plates. I'm in the mood for a rest; he's apparently not. He sticks out a stubby paw- with two claws torn out of the beds, I can't help but notice- and pokes me hard in the chest.

My next startling discovery: legs are important to balance.

I fall less-than-gracefully onto my backside and burst out laughing.

"Ow, my tailbone," I groan through the giggles. Add it to the list; aside from the scars, I have a scratch on my face, a long singe mark on my tunic and a skinned forearm from my miserable attempt to haul myself into a tree. Probably would have helped to have two functional legs for that one.

Toothless hooks his teeth- huh, that sounds confusing- into my vest and drags me in a circle across the ground and I laugh so hard my ribs ache. I have the _worst _grass-burn all up my hands, and it itches something fierce.

Then Toothless decides that it would be fun if we went swimming.

"Toothless!" I splutter.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Deep breath," Raoul smirks before shoving me forwards._

_The water is freezing cold, and the air whooshes out of my lungs like a wet fish out of someone's hands. Before long I'm physically clenching my mouth shut to stop myself breathing in; that's one sure-fire way to die._

_Then again, breathing in might be a good idea._

_My lungs burn like fire, and I can see my vision dulling slightly. Not even when Dagur was 'bored again' was I ever underwater this long. Just when I'm seriously about to breathe it all in and take my chances in Fólkvangr or Hel, I'm torn back up by my hair. I whoop in the sweet air; never before have I appreciated just how awesome air is._

_"__Ready to tell me?" Raoul asks unpleasantly._

_"__Why…" I cough, "would I do that? A little swim won't change my mind,"_

_So, of course, he shoves me back under._

* * *

><p>I struggle back to the surface.<p>

_No, _I think angrily. _I will _not _let this control me._

I throw out a hand and find Toothless' foreleg, and pull myself towards him, shivering madly.

"No… no swimming," I cough, and his ear plates droop, but he paddles in a shambolic fashion towards the bank. I flop against his back when he crawls onto the flat, grassy ground, and he croons an apology.

"Don't worry about it, bud," I say. Then I hear a thud from behind me, and a hand grabs my arm. I have to admit I freak a little bit.

"Argh! Son of a-"

I spin only to see Astrid wincing apologetically while simultaneously wearing a look of concern. Stormfly is preening behind her.

"Are you alright? I just saw you nearly drown, and-"

"You were watching?" I interrupt with a yelp. She looks guilty.

"Yes,"

"For how long?" I demand crossly.

"Since… since Toothless mimicked your dad," Astrid buries a hand in her hair sheepishly and I frown at her. She watched Toothless rear up on his hind legs and stomp awkwardly around the cove, flapping his wings madly to stay upright, waving his paws as much as his limited shoulder rotational capabilities would let him and smacking his thick dragon skull into rocks and trees.

"Oh," I say awkwardly.

There is silence.

"Um… where's your foot?" Astrid finally asks. I point to its spot over beside the rocks.

"Why, you want it?" I crack.

She gives me a look.

"No," she deadpans. "As you can see, I have two fully functional feet."

"Maybe we can give it to the twins," I joke. "Might help their brains run faster."

Astrid giggles, then hunches over in a very Tuffnut-esque pose.

"Ugh. My name's Tuffnut. I think frozen yak milk is a great idea. I think we should slice bread before we give it to people. I like to blow stuff up."

I slump my shoulders too and put on an even more nasally voice than I already have.

"I'm Ruffnut. I hate my brother. I have to share _everything _with him! My axe, my spoon, my yak, my dark-soggy-alone-place, even my dragon!"

"Oh no, gods forbid you have to share a network of caves almost two miles long!" Astrid fans her face with one hand and places the other on her forehead, looking like a real idiot. She pretends to faint in my direction and promptly squashes me flat on the ground when my lack of a left leg interrupts my balancing.

Gee, I didn't know that would happen. Who knew that a leg was good for keeping you upright?

"Ow," I say intelligently. She has a very spiky skirt and it is impaling my other leg.

"Oops," she giggles, rolling off me. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I say, sitting up.

"Anyway, now that I'm here I might as well tell you that you're being an idiot,"

"I'm sorry, what?" I do a double-take.

"You heard me!" she says loudly, folding her arms. "You're being an idiot about all of this. You protest about being treated like a child, but you're acting like one! If you want to be treated maturely you need to act it!"

Um. I'm not sure there's a response for that.

o~0~O~0~o

"Because playing games is mature," I say crossly.

"Of course!" Astrid says brightly. "It involves mead. Therefore it's mature!"

The twins have rearranged the tables in the Great Hall so that each one is a leaping-distance apart. And along the edges of the tables are jugs of mead. I'm not sure that _any _of us should be playing this game, because at least one person always ends up drunk off their face. Whoever invented it needs to have a sword through their chest.

"Up on the tables!" Snotlout orders cheerfully. I climb up on a table, and Ruffnut pouts.

"I was going for that table," she says crossly.

I think I should explain this game. In typical Viking fashion, it's a mess of different rules, comprised of two sections. The first is _The Bard from Valhalla. _One player is elected the Bard, and they start off with a rhyme on the subject. Everyone else has to continue the story, no matter how crazy it gets, with another rhyme. Whoever fumbles first loses… and everyone but the victor has to take a drink.

The second is _Dragon Hunting. _Great name, right? This one leads on from the last one; when the person loses, they have to leap to another table. If there's someone on that particular table, then that person has to move, so on so forth. It keeps going until everyone is on their own table with no challengers. If you touch the ground… guess what? You get to take a drink.

"Who's the Bard?" Tuffnut demands. Over in the corner, Mulch blanches, like he's just realised what we're playing, and bolts from the hall, dragging Bucket with him.

"Hiccup is," says Astrid.

_Thank you, Astrid, _I think. _This keeps getting better and better._

And the chanting begins.

"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR! PILLAGE, PLUNDER, VIKING LORE! FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT! BARD FROM VALHALLA, TALL AND GREAT!"

Not very tall and great, but anyway.

"There was a Viking, known 'round with fame. Grimbeard the Ghastly was his name!" I invent wildly.

"Darn. Forgot he was good at rhyme…" mutters Tuffnut.

"He had a sword! Stormblade it was told! He who opposed it would be bold!" Fishlegs yells. I scowl at him good-naturedly.

"This blade was strong and etched with light! The Valkyries gave it one fateful night!"

A line almost straight from one of the beat-up books I own, but it works.

"This sword was… um… it was…darn."

Fishlegs bends down and picks up a mug, and everyone grumbles as they pick up their own. Each drains a mug and I gag at the scent. I _hate _mead with a passion, but fair is fair. If I lose, I'll drink with everyone else, despite the fact I'd sooner drink a mug-full of yaknog. Fishlegs makes an awkward jump and lands on Astrid's table. Then she goes at me. I yelp and spring off my table before she can get me, landing bow-legged on Snotlout's table, the nails on the bottom of my metal leg scoring small grooves into the table. He snorts and leaps away. Then suddenly Ruffnut flies at me and I slam my face into the not-so-friendly ground.

"Great," I mutter, and reach for a mug.

o~0~O~0~o

"HICCUP IS CHEATING!" Fishlegs bellows. I smirk.

"Am not! Not my fault I'm missing a leg!"

I've stuck the nails of my metal leg straight down into the wood of the table, and Fishlegs is trying his hardest to shove me off the table. It's not working.

"HA!" I laugh at him. "Find another table, Fishy! This one's mine!"

The hall is littered with empty mugs, which is really not a good sign. Fishlegs crosses tables, and Astrid laughs maniacally before leaping away. Snotlout jumps onto my table, and I jump across to Tuffnut's table- and land squarely on top of him. It's at this awkward point in time that the hall doors open and two figures walk in.

"Huh?" Gobber says in bewilderment.

"Hiccup," says my dad with a sound of dawning comprehension, "are you… _drunk_?"

"Dad," I laugh, slightly madly, "I am _so_drunk. But I'm winning!"

Dad blinks, then slowly turns around and leaves the hall.


End file.
